


A Short Drabble

by thesunisloud



Series: Tiny Cecil [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, cecil's hair fetish, tiny cecil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:39:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunisloud/pseuds/thesunisloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos finds that a strange condition has befallen Cecil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short Drabble

"Cecil?" Carlos called, running into the studio. "Cecil, I got your text message. Are you all right?"  
  
He looked around; Cecil was nowhere in sight. His smartphone lay on the table.   
  
"Carlos," Cecil said, and at that steady rich tone, Carlos relaxed.  
  
"Cecil, where are you?"  
  
"Help me, I can’t get down."  
  
Carlos looked at the ceiling. He saw nothing but the wires, tentacles, and terrifying morphing blackness that were always up there. “I can’t see you.”  
  
Cecil grunted, like he was straining with effort. “Look for the source… of my voice…”  
  
His voice appeared to be coming from the ceiling as well. Cecil let out another grunt, and he pinpointed it as coming from somewhere near the in-studio speakers.  
  
"No, I’m not up there. Ugh, Carlos, I’m slipping. Look where my voice is COMING from!" Carlos squinted at the ceiling speaker hard. "No, my mic!"  
  
Carlos whipped his head back around to the empty desk. The mic sat there, a classic ’50s radio mic on a tall stalk. He saw something purple move behind the mic guard. Leaning close, he saw two little legs drop down as Cecil let out a cry, then scramble back up onto the metal ring, accompanied by more grunts.  
  
"Cecil?" Carlos whispered. He gingerly turned the mic. Cecil, only one inch tall, yelped and struggled to hold on.   
  
"Oh…" Carlos said. He cupped his hands under him. Cecil dropped into his palms. "What happened to you?" he asked.  
  
The tiny radio host seemed to give a reply, but it was too quiet to hear. Carlos held him up to the microphone.   
  
"Well, at first I assumed I had shrunk. But I would be very self-centered if I did not suppose that perhaps the entire world has simply grown around me."  
  
"I’m pretty sure you’ve shrunk. How did it happen?"  
  
Cecil shrugged his tiny shoulders. He looked impossibly delicate now. “You know how it goes, one minute you’re giving your broadcast, the next you’re speaking in the voice of an entity that’s possessed you, or you’re walking uncontrollably to your doom, or you’re floating in mid-air, or you’re a different shape, species, gender, or size… it would be silly to spend time examining the ‘why’ of everything that happened to you.”  
  
"Oh, Cecil," Carlos said, cradling his cupped hands to his chest. "Don’t worry, I’ll fix you."  
  
Cecil’s little mouth moved, and Carlos held him to his ear to hear him. To his surprise, though soft, Cecil’s voice did not change its pitch; it was still supernaturally sonorous and deep. “Who says I need to be ‘fixed?’” Cecil asked. “Are you a sizeist?”  
  
"Ah. No. Not really. I’ll, uh, love you however you are, I just assumed—"  
  
"You assumed. A common fallacy of most sizeists out there. But it’s all right. I would prefer to return to the size I identify with, too. Especially since I can’t reach my coffee."  
  
"Here," Carlos said. He positioned Cecil in front of his face and dipped his finger in the mug of coffee, then steadied it against the hand holding Cecil. Cecil wrapped his arms around his finger and leaned in to suck liquid from the drop. He barely diminished its size before sitting back, satisfied.   
  
"I’ll get you back to the lab," Carlos said. He started to put him in his pocket. Cecil tugged on the webbing between his fingers urgently.   
  
"What?" Carlos asked, lifting him back to his ear. "Did I hurt you? Are you all right?"  
  
"I’d rather not be in your pocket," Cecil said. "Could I possibly… ride in your hair?"  
  
"Of course," Carlos said. He pressed his hand against his head, and Cecil jumped up into his wavy locks. He felt little hands easily grip and pull his strands of hair as Cecil climbed into a nest against his head.  
  
"Carlos," Cecil said, burying himself entirely within the soft mass of Carlos’ hair, "I’ve changed my mind. I want to stay like this forever."


End file.
